Interesting
by turtlejumpinghurdle
Summary: OC During clinic duty, House runs into an interesting boy that seems to know things about people. The boy wants to live with House, who agrees only because the boy is so interesting. House is forced to be human. Different, I guess. Huddy too. R
1. Benji

**INTERESTING**

Benji

House walked in to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital exactly 47 minutes late. If he did say so himself, that wasn't so bad. He had tried to be later, sleep in a little longer, but his leg hurt a little more than usual and not even two vicodin could put him back to sleep. Plus, there's only so many times you can play _American Woman _before you decide work isn't such a bad idea.

Upon entering, he headed straight for the elevator. With any luck, someone's BP would refuse to respond to meds or someone would be too young and fit for their heart to go haywire, or something else would go wonky and a very interesting case would present itself in his office. Maybe then he wouldn't have to face Cuddy for awhile. The thought was bittersweet.

Meanwhile in the clinic, a young boy walked up to the receptionist. They went over the usual doo-dads, including 'where are your parents', which the boy lied about with ease. The clinic was unusually empty, so he was immediately dispersed to exam room one. The boy took one step in the exam room direction, hesitated, and turned back to face the already-exhausted receptionist.

"Would it be at all possible to be seen by Dr. Gregory House?" he asked.

The receptionist was shocked. Never once in her life had she heard these words. She'd actually considered betting that these words would never be said, but knew no one would bite. It was common knowledge. "Ah…well, Dr. House isn't in right now." She figured that was true, but House didn't exactly announce his arrival with greetings. Perhaps the boy would come to his senses and settle for one of the more pleasant clinic docs.

The boy didn't seem bothered. "He will be in today, though?"

"In theory." The nurse replied, annoyed. This kid was strange. His family must be acquainted with House somehow. Maybe he was really sick and required House's skill. Or maybe he was just strange. The list was that short.

"Thank-you. I'll just wait in the exam room then?"

He was polite for someone strange enough to _want_ House, but she decided to be polite back. "Yes, that would be fine then. Maybe take a magazine."

The boy chuckled and walked off. He pondered whether or not to tell the lady that the correct choice on her list was option three, but decided against it. That might be _too_ strange. Besides, exam room one awaited him.

"Anything? Anything at all?" He asked his ducklings, who looked bored.

"Fifty-seven-year-old male with tachycardia, rash, and nosebleeds." Chase replied, unimpressed. Nothing really interesting had come in for weeks. The trend seemed to be continuing.

"Why don't you sound interested?" House asked. The combination was mildly intriguing, wasn't it?

"Apparently, two days ago his rash mysteriously appeared after he fell into a patch of poison ivy, and he's a self-admitted nose-picker." Cameron moaned.

House made a face. "So really, just tachycardia?" Okay, that was kind of boring. Again.

The ducklings nodded.

"'Kay, do an echo just for the heck of it and whatever else you feel like. I have clinic. Yay! Who wants to celebrate with me?!" And with that House walked out miserably. Chase banged his head on the glass table before getting up to get a coffee.

"Greetings my fine young citizen! What ails you today that requires the powers of my healing?" House asked the young boy who was sitting patiently in exam room one, seemingly reading the poster on heart disease. He had Chase-coloured hair that was thick and curly, reaching down past his chin. He was short, House figured maybe ten years old.

"Hi, House." The boy smiled, "my name's Benji." He reached out his hand for House to shake. House accepted, confused by this behaviour.

"Hi. So, what? Are your toenails too long? Toothache? Your belly-button was an innie but now it's an outtie?"

"Nah, it would appear - or not appear, I guess - that someone cleaned the clinic doors. Ran right into those very clean, very spotless glass doors. My face kinda hurts. Like, in the parts that would hit stuff first."

"And 'stuff'…that's codeword for door of clinic?"

"Um…yeah. Stuff is quicker though."

House cocked his head slightly and looked at the boy. "So, you were walking into a clinic to get treated for something that happened on your way into the very same clinic?"

"Yeah. It's Benji with an I, by the way."

House just continued looking at the boy, zoned out for the most part to all dialogue.

"And a J. J-I."

He was wearing a plain blue t-shirt - bag of sunflower seeds blue.

"Some people spell it with a G, but then it'd be a hard G, like in goat. That's just wrong."

His shorts were a harder fabric and hung to his knees. They were a dirt colour, and actually had some real dirt on them.

"And some people put a Y at the end, but if you actually look at that after you write it, it looks stupid."

House smiled. He kinda liked this kid. "How old are you?"

Benji laughed. "You're so close. I'm eleven, but only by two months."

House's smile vanished. That was kinda weird.

The boy looked kinda of embarrassed. "Um, want to go for a walk? Like, outside?"

"You're supposed to be sick."

"If anyone asks I have motor function issues or something and you're running some tests as part of an experiment in Texas. A few of them will buy it."

Yeah, House liked this kid. "Sure, but try to look like a motor-function-issue kid, 'kay?"

"Will do, mate."

Exactly 32 minutes later House and Benji were sitting on the park bench. Benji had remained quiet the whole way and House was too busy studying him to talk. There had also been a few people around, which Benji seemed to be quiet aware of. But now they were alone.

"I was wondering…" Benji began, quietly.

"Me too. Di-"

"Hey, I asked first." Benji was smiling. He enjoyed House's company.

"Age before beauty." House said seriously, looking down at his much younger bench-buddy.

Benji jokingly placed his hand over his own heart and thumped it twice. "Touched, mate. Touched deep down to the core."

"I know, I'm a people-pleaser. But did you just guess on that age thing or what?"

"Yeah, well, my question is better. Could I live with you?"

House was stunned but brushed it off sarcastically. "Could I live with you? Sometimes my parents don't give me cookies right before supper and it hurts my heart."

"Serious." Benji's face had turned to stone.

"I have a strict no adopting eleven-year-old boys policy. You fit within those parameters.

"It's hardly adopting. It's more borrowing. Like you borrow an interesting toy."

"You're mildly interesting. So's animal planet and animal planet can be turned off."

Benji laughed so hard he fell onto the grass. House just stared at him. "Uh…kid?"

Benji held up the 'just one minute' finger. House shrugged.

"Okay, whoo, sorry about that." Benji calmed down and sat back onto the bench, multitasking by simultaneously brushing the grass out of his blonde hair.

House just stared, his head slightly cocked.

"Guy, I am _way_ more interesting than animal planet."

"Oh, yeah? You're definitely going to have to prove that. Animal planet has special appearances by platypuses."

Benji seemed unsure all of a sudden. His falling over laughing mood was long gone. "Um, yeah, sure, just it's going to push some of your buttons."

House laughed softly. "Push away, kid."

The boy shrugged and stood up. He walked the few steps so he was standing directly in front of House. "Sorry, but I really would like to live with you. "

House just nodded, deciding to play along. Perhaps the boy was a young Dr. Seuss and was going to recite a poem about purple things with long trunks.

"It would work, me living with you. You could still have your bed and I'd just sleep on the couch. I'm not a big fan of TV, so I won't keep you up or nothing. Hey, if Wilson could fit on that couch, I definitely can. Just maybe don't do that 'hand in hot water' prank. You're couch may never forgive you. And the morphine you keep on your top shelf, I won't touch that. I'm not in any pain. Maybe my face, but not nearly enough for morphine. Or vicodin, so don't worry about that, either. You're too paranoid that Wilson or Cuddy will cut you off. I mean seriously, hiding some in the coffee cups? Think about that for a sec. I really like music. Not as much as you, because that's one of your bricks, but it makes me happy and I can play a few things on piano. That was a very nice version or _American Woman_ you played this morning, Maybe you could teach me?"

House just stared and watched the boy take a deep breath before sitting back down. He looked unsure again and a little embarrassed. "How-"

"I really didn't want to do that." Benji interrupted quickly. "I don't like abusing it, just…"

All of a sudden House laughed and popped three vicodin.

Benji joined in. "So? Am I more interesting than a platypus?"


	2. Borrowed

Borrowed

"You what?" Wilson yelled. House was standing in his office, Benji standing patiently outside.

"I'm borrowing him. It's no big deal, just could you give him a ride to my apartment after work. He can't exactly climb on board the bike, can he. That would be irresponsible."

"Know what's irresponsible, House?! 'Borrowing' a little kid!"

"He's-"

"You don't even like kids! Why do you want a kid living with you?" Wilson was still yelling and his face was turning a peculiar shade of crimson. Almost maraschino cherry.

"He's very, very interesting. More interesting than Animal Planet."

Wilson held his head in agony and tried to calm down. "House, you are a drug addict. You can't just have some kid march into your apartment."

A knock echoed from the other side of the room. House motioned for Wilson to open it.

"Hello, Dr. Wilson. At the rate you're going, you won't have a voice by tomorrow."

House laughed, but quickly stopped himself. He wasn't a fan of yelling either.

Wilson crouched down to Benji's height and got all cancer doc on him. "Benji, where are your parents? They're probably worried about you."

"Doubt that," Benji said with a slight chuckle, "my mom's dead and my dad's just as dead, just more subtly."

Wilson shot House a look and mouthed, "did you know that?"

House shook his head. He kinda figured though.

"What about foster parents? Aunts or uncles? Who do you live with?"

"Wilson, you're very kind and caring and all of your three ex-wives know that, but seriously, I'm better off with Dr. House. Thing is, young boys shouldn't ride back-seat on motorcycles in shorts and a t-shirt. But you, you have a very convenient car that could easily transport me to apartment 221B." Benji took another big breath and returned to his look of embarrassment and insecurity.

Wilson stood up and spun around. House sensed more yelling. "Did you tell him about my wives? Why on earth would you do that?"

House smiled, "that, Jimmy, is why he is more interesting than Animal Planet."

Wilson stood shocked. "You didn't tell him that stuff?"

House was at the point of beaming, "didn't even tell him about my bike."

"Dr. Wilson, you're House's only good friend, so it's kind of your duty to make sure he doesn't go and screw things up in other people's lives, but this isn't a screw up. People would very much benefit from my being borrowed."

At that moment House and Wilson both realized that Benji had very blue puppy dog eyes. And who can say no to a puppy?


	3. 221B

221B

House beat Wilson and Benji to his apartment, but only by a few minutes. He briefly considered making the place look homey, but discarded that thought,. If Benji knew about his morphine and his coffee-cup vicodin, he probably knew about the mess.

When House heard a knock on the door, he got a little excited. This kid was perhaps the most interesting person he had ever met. A little funny too. So he answered the door without looking through the peephole like he usually did. Let's all be thankful there wasn't an assassinator standing there.

"Hey, House." Benji and Wilson chorused, one considerably more enthused than the other. Wilson motioned for House to step outside for a moment, who shot Benji a look of mock excitement.

"I'll just stand here then." Benji said, like that was as good as getting a dog for Christmas.

"He didn't say a single word the whole way here! Didn't even tell me his name." Wilson hissed.

"Oh relax, Wilson. He doesn't seem to enjoy talking when other people are around. Like other people in the park or other people in the clinic or other people in their cars."

"Do you even know his name?!"

"I repeat: oh relax, Wilson. Apparently his name is Benji. With an I…and a J."

"How old?"

"Hey, this is kind of like Jeopardy, under the category of House's New Toy!" House rolled his eyes, "he's eleven, but just two months ago. And quite honestly that's all I knew about him. He talks more about me than he does about him. Which, I repeat, makes him much more interesting than Animal Planet."

"What're you gonna do with him in the morning? You know, when you go to work?"

"Is that the relaxed Jimmy we've all come to love? I'll do with him whatever he wants to do with himself. I'm assured he won't touch my drugs."

"House!"

The door of House's apartment opened slightly and Benji's head poked out. "Go home Wilson." He didn't say it rudely, just seriously. "House is good."

Wilson just through his arms in the air and left.

House gave Benji a nod, "Nice."

House quietly played piano while Benji sorted through the kitchen. He practically feinted with joy when he discovered the peanut butter. "You have peanut butter, House!"

"Do I really? Gosh golly, I'm a new man," House replied sarcastically.

Benji made a mocking face and went back to his musings.

But then something popped into House's rat maze of a brain. "You didn't know about the peanut butter?"

Benji shook his head and walked over, satisfied with finding peanut butter. He flopped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling, like he was in therapy or something. "You don't put a heck of a lot of thought into your peanut, you know."

"And that's what's important?" House had found himself a puzzle and was quite pleased with himself.

"Yeah. I'm what's defined as a mentalist. We pick up on thought waves and stuff. Some of them are full of crap." He chuckled at this, perhaps remembering some of this crap.

"What else do you know about me?" How interesting this was compared to animal planet was beyond words now.

"Loads of things." And with that Benji rolled over onto his side and fell asleep.


	4. Big Mouth

Big Mouth

Eighty-six minutes late. He couldn't get to sleep thinking about his shiny new toy, and he wouldn't sleep in because his leg hurt too much. Three vicodin down the hatch had no effect.

Benji was still asleep when House woke up and he really didn't feel like waking him. He'd probably have to hear about how much his leg hurt and he didn't want to think about that. And the kid looked so happy. He was curled up on the couch, still in his day clothes and under one of House's old blankets. So he simply left a note with Wilson's cell number and his own office number. Under these he wrote 'eat peanut butter or buy something' and placed a twenty. He had a hunch the kid would eat the peanut butter. And with that he scooped up his cane and walked out the door, arriving at work eighty-six minutes late.

House figured that anything with even a slight potential at becoming medically interesting came up, his pager would go off like a 4th of July fireworks display. Might as well get rid of a more clinic hours. That was the plan anyway, until Cuddy intercepted his pathway.

"In my office, right now!" She ordered, pointing at her beautiful door.

"But I'm saving lives here," House whined. He marched in the direction Cuddy's finger ordered him too, anyway. This was going to be about one of two things: his new toy Benji, or she was going to tell him how much she loved him and how they should get married and never yell at each other ever again. One, however, was more likely.

"You stupid idiot!" Cuddy yelled.

House looked to either side of him. No one was there. He pasted a look of surprise onto his face. "Who, me?! Heavens me, you must be mistaken."

"Wilson told me what you did yesterday."

"Wilson…not ringing any bells."

"Shut up House. You've done a lot of stupid things, but this is way up there."

"That big fat liar." House mumbled, still playing.

"Children are not lawn mowers or guitars or drugs. You can't borrow a child."

"In all fairness, you can't borrow drugs. See, when you borrow something, the polite, humanly thing to do is to return it. You can't exactly return an empty vial of cocaine. Well I guess you could, but I'm betting no one wants it in phase two."

"Take him back now!"

"Back where? He just showed up. It's not like I kidnapped him or something!"

"The-"

"Then what? Track down his parents? They are, and I quote 'dead, and just as dead but more subtly'." House was mad now. Why where Wilson and Cuddy so sure he was going to screw this up?

Cuddy's phone rang, breaking some of the tension. She answered it but kept one eye on House, knowing how much it made his day to hang up her phone. "Lisa Cuddy," she answered. House waited patiently as the other end had it's turn to talk. Cuddy's face puckered and she held out the phone.

House smiled. "Just put it on speaker, love. I keep no secrets from you."

Wilson's voice came shouting through the phone speakers. "You idiot! You just left him there? What were you thinking?"

House moaned. He probably should've considered a few things before he gave Benji Wilson's number. "What'd he say?" He was serious.

"Just something about how he was looking forward to the peanut butter and then some stuff about _American Woman_ and he wants you to call him. But you just left him there? House, he's eleven!"

House chose to ignore part of that answer, "Is he still at my apartment?"

"Well, let's hope so, otherwise he's all alone on the street somewhere!" Wilson yelled. He was friends with an idiot, for Pete's sake.

"Oh, I knew I forgot something! Shoulda given him a key, I guess." House joked. It was so fun making Wilson squirm.

"HOUSE!"

House quickly disconnected his phone call. He turned to Cuddy, "Well, I guess I'm gonna go make a phone call." And with that he exited the office of Lisa Cuddy.

"How late do you work?" Benji asked from the other side of the line.

House shrugged, always forgetting you can't see people during phone calls, "I dunno, there's not much to do today. Why?"

"Curiosity," Benji replied quietly.

"Use that mental brain of yours and focus in on Cuddy. When will she let me leave?" House made a pondering face, again forgetting.

This slightly angered his toy, "I'm not mental, I'm a mental_ist_, there's a difference, okay. And Cuddy's not even thinking about you right now, she's thinking about me. She wants a shiny toy like me. Or, as some really strange people might call me: a kid."

House would never admit to anyone, but he wanted Cuddy to be thinking about him. Regrettably, he heard Benji laugh. House slumped, "I suppose you hear that?"

The boy still chuckled slightly, "Yeah, heartbroken, are we?"

"Shut up."

Benji sounded unsure and a touch embarrassed again, like he had twice before, "I know, I'm sorry. Just…um…yeah, sorry."

House fought not to be angry. That's what Cuddy and Wilson were afraid he would do. Freak out on the kid like he sometimes did on his duckling, only the kid probably wouldn't take it so well. "Uh…it's cool. Just save me some peanut butter." Yeah, House, brush it off with a joke. However, that seemed to work for Benji as House heard him laugh a little bit and hang up.

Wilson and Cuddy then marched into House's office, where he sat with the phone still in his hand. He immediately hung it up and stared like a good little House. They kind of looked the same way they did when they tried to explain what an addict House was. Intervention like.

Wilson was first, "House, do you…care about this kid?"

Crap. At least they didn't bring Cameron along. That could've been very bad.

"Because, if you do, that's a big step. I mean, he's a human being."

Brush it off with a joke, "So, if I lie and say I care about him, I can keep him?"

Cuddy stared angrily at him. "House, you can't just go toying with a kid's life. It's immoral, even for you."

"He thinks I can," House replied testily, "and Cuddy you haven't even met him. That's like saying k'Nex sucks just because you've never played with it."

Both Cuddy and Wilson groaned. "HE"S NOT A TOY!" Wilson shouted, getting frustrated.

"Still, though, the metaphor is quite good, don't you think?"

"That's it," Wilson through up his hand's and turned to leave.

Cuddy held him back, however, and spun him back to face House. "Look House, answer the question seriously. Do you care about this kid?"

House took a deep breath. He hated this part, "No. But I think he cares about me." He stared with his bright blue eyes.

"Alright," Cuddy moaned, "I have to meet this kid."


	5. How The?

How the - ?

Cuddy, Wilson, and House all piled into Wilson's car. Wilson drove, with Cuddy sitting beside him. House sat in the back.

"What's his name?" Cuddy asked, breaking the silence.

"Benji," House replied. Wilson thought he heard some emotion there, but couldn't be sure.

Cuddy considered that. "Nice name," she said. She didn't like sitting in silence with House. It was always awkward.

"And he probably just ate a whole jar of peanut butter, so don't make him work too hard," House joked.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. Why, exactly, was House letting a kid eat a whole jar of peanut butter? A nice piece of toast or perhaps a muffin seemed more suitable. So, to Cuddy's demise, they remained silent the rest of the way to 221B.

Benji opened the door mere seconds before they arrived. "Earlier than I had expected," he admitted, blushing slightly.

"Hello, Benji, I am Lisa Cuddy. I work with Dr. Wilson and Dr. House."

House rolled his eyes. She was going all motherly.

Benji just looked at House and smiled, stepping aside to let in his guests. He plopped himself down on the couch and Cuddy sat beside him. Wilson pulled up a chair from the kitchen and House sat on the more comfortable relaxing chair.

"So Benji, what'd you do today?" Cuddy asked.

"I slept for a while, then I showered, then I called Wilson, then House called me, then I ate that." Benji motioned to the now-empty jar of peanut butter that he had placed on top of the piano. "Chill, House, it's on a coaster."

Cuddy looked at the boy curiously. "How come you aren't with your family?"

House rolled his eyes, "how come Martians are on mars? They kind of don't have a choice."

Benji nodded sadly. "He's not going to screw this up," he said seriously, staring directly at Cuddy, "if anyone gets hurt it's going to be him. Quit worrying about me."

Cuddy gave Wilson a surprised look, but continued talking to Benji, "you should be with a family, if not your own. Dr. House has to work a lot and he isn't going to be able to take care of you very well."

"That cuts deep," House mumbled.

"Cuddy, he can take care of me a heck of a lot better than anyone else can." Benji said.

Cuddy opened her mouth to say something, but Benji cut her off.

"The fourth clinic patient you treated yesterday - Jack - has skin cancer. You know he does and you're going to have to tell him. You're thinking maybe two days from now you'll call him and tell him, but you want to tell him face-to-face. Trouble is, two days from now is Sunday and he's not going to be able to take the bus, so he'll have to catch a ride with a friend. Jack's a nice guy though, and feels bad when he has to call in favours, mainly because he owes about 20 and nobody owes him. So he'll already be in a bad mood and then you're going to have to tell him the bad news and that'll dig his hole even deeper. Then he'll get a ride home and he'll think about telling his friend but won't because he suspects his friend is going through some rough patches with the Mrs. It's hardly your fault he has skin cancer, Cuddy."

Cuddy and Wilson just stared at this very peculiar boy. House just smiled. So very, very interesting.

"How th-"

It was House's turn to cut Cuddy off, "he's mental," he said proudly.

"Mental_ist_," Benji growled. He was bright red and was staring at his feet, "Jack already knows he has skin cancer. He's thought about all the problems it'll present, but not nearly as much as you have."

"How do you know that?" Cuddy asked, figuring House was behind it. That would send her over the edge for sure.

"I'm sorry, just I want to stay with House. I…you wouldn't listen to anything else, okay." Benji appeared to be on the verge of tears.

"House, how does he know that?" Cuddy asked again.

"You heard the kid. He's a mentalist. Picks up on thought waves. Do you have a thing for this Jack guy? Must say, I don't approve. Guy is too lazy to put on sunscreen." This was fun. His toy was so impressive.

"Sort of not buying that House." Cuddy replied, resisting the urge to hit him but only because the kid looked so sad.

"Wilson needs needy. He wants to fix people, to make them all better. Make them happy even if it takes away a little bit of his happiness. Maybe if people are happy, they'll want other people to be happy, right Wilson? Then maybe you'll be happier. Maybe your brother will come home he's so happy. Happy, happy, happy." Tears were falling softly down Benji's cheeks.

Cuddy and Wilson stared at each other. House kept smiling.

Benji looked up, "thank you. You can go."

"If you have a chance, buy some peanut butter!" House called as his friends left. Then he turned to Benji, "nice, kid. So do I get to keep you or what?"

"You sound like a little kid that wants to keep a lost dog." Benji grumped.

"What's your deal? Why the waterworks?"

"I don't like doing that."

"Getting what you want? I know, it can be so discouraging."

"I don't like doing it like that! People's thoughts are supposed to be tucked away for just them to listen to. I'm not supposed to be able to go in there and listen. It's wrong. I don't like manipulating people like that."

"One wrestler is stronger than the other wrestler. They wrestle, and with his strength the stronger one wins. He doesn't feel bad about it."

"He's not going inside the other guys body!"

"You're a good act, kid. But seriously, how do you do that? How'd you know that stuff about Cuddy? Are you a stalker?"

Benji sighed. He knew House didn't believe him. "I'm for real, House. As real as the pain in your leg that has been getting worse over the last few days. Not even vicodin takes the pain away."

"How?" House asked. He was at the need-to-know stage, like when he's asking a patient if they've ever done drugs, even thirty years ago. Asking something that was beyond curious. Asking something that mattered. This mattered now.

Benji grinned, hearing what House was thinking. "Everybody lies, House. Everybody's words lie, but thoughts can't. And neither can the kid who hears these thoughts."


	6. Brush It Off With A Joke

Brush It Off With A Joke

House gently finished playing a beautiful sonatina on his piano when he turned to Benji. He was still so curious. Time to manipulate a kid into talking.

"You don't always have to manipulate people, you know. Sometimes they just talk," Benji mumbled from the couch.

A smile creaked across House's face as he stood up from the bench. He walked over and was about to sit on the chair when Benji pointed to the empty space on the couch.

"Here please," Benji whispered.

House nodded, unsure about being so close to someone. He preferred distance, but sat down anyway. "How'd you know about my leg?"

"You thought about it all day. House, there's no way I can prove what I can do, so could you just play along?"

"Yeah, I can do that," House nodded. This made him slightly nervous. "Who did you use to live with?"

"Ah, I lived in this abandoned building in the rough side of town. There were two other guys there, Rags and Tags."

"What were their mothers thinking?" House joked, even though it probably wasn't the time.

"Um, Tags was a petty thief. CD's and clothes, mostly. He got caught though, a few years ago. Idiot always left the tags on the stuff he stole and wasn't exactly subtle. Guy in court gave him his name, I think. His real name is Robert. That's what his mother called him but he hates his mother so doesn't mind ditching the name."

"And Rags?"

"He wears rags, pretty much. Some guys at a gas station gave him the name I think. They are good guys House, they just made some mistakes." Benji stared deep into House's eyes.

"Yeah, there should be show based on their humanitarianism." House didn't know why he kept doing that, brushing everything off with a sarcastic comment. He knew he was supposed to be there for the kid, encourage him to keep talking. That's what Cuddy and Wilson would do.

Benji swallowed and spoke quietly, still staring, "if it's a joke, it's funny and matters about as much as comic strip. If Garfield suddenly died in one comic, you wouldn't get hurt. It's just a cartoon. But if it's serious, it matters a lot. You start to care. And you are afraid you'll hurt them, like Stacey. When you hurt people you don't know how to help them, about as much as other people wouldn't have a clue how to help a cartoon character. So then what? Watch them fall even deeper? You can't do that, you have to solve the puzzle. You have to help them, don't you? You can help me, House."

House felt numb, stunned, "how can I help you?"

"The way you were meant to. Just be House. Going to bed right now, that'll help me."

House swallowed, trying to regain composure. He stood up, his leg unusually heavy. He fought back a wince and popped a vicodin. "Good night kid."

"Good night House."

House felt something touch his arm. He sat up abruptly and flicked on the lamp, looking around in paranoia. Turning to his left, he saw a figure laying beside him. Rubbing his eyes and blinking a few times brought the image clearer. It was Benji, sweating and twitching uncontrollably. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.

"Benji!" House shouted. What was happening?

"H-hold my han-hand," the boy mouthed, speaking softer than the flapping of a butterfly's wings.

House quickly took Benji's hand and held it tight. Maybe he should call Wilson. "Wake up Benji!"

"Wake up Benji," Benji repeated, speaking just a little bit louder than he had before. "Wake up now Benji."

"Hey, kid, focus!" Okay, he was calling Wilson in five, four, three, two, o-.

Benji shook his head violently. "Wa-waking up now, House. Don't ne-need Wilson."

House squeezed the small hand even tighter, looking intently at the boy's face. He looked so incredibly scared, like he'd just seen a war or something. He'd better be waking up, and with any luck this would just be a really bad nightmare. Kids had nightmares all the time, right? This couldn't't be traced back to be his fault, not even by Wilson. But what if it was drugs?

Benji took a deep breath and sat up slowly. The twitching had stopped and his eyes were returning to normal, but he was still sweating slightly. "I'm okay, I'm okay. Nightmare, is all. Just a bad dream."

"Hey, Benji, did you touch my drugs?" House wasn't mad or curious. This was important.

Benji shook his head violently, "promised not to. I don't break promises. I don't lie either."

House tried just thinking what he wanted to say, hoping the kid would pick up on it. He didn't want to risk yelling, but Benji didn't seem to be picking up on anything. The only choice was to try his luck talking out loud, "I'm not mad, kid, you have to tell the truth. Did you take something else? Advil, maybe?" House was getting frustrated. Why was his toy broken?

"No, nothing. Just peanut butter. Talk, keep talking, I can't hear what you're thinking."

"Okay, um, how come? Why can't you hear?"

"Too busy thinking my own thoughts. It's like having the radio and the TV on at the same time. You're the TV. I have to turn you off now, so I can hear the radio. I'll turn you back on when I'm done" Benji face was set like stone, sweat dripping down slowly onto the sheets.

"What about in crowds? What's that like? I noticed you don't talk in crowds."

"Too many TV's on. The radio's off, but too many TV's. Gives me a headache. Can't focus."

"Can you always turn off the TV?"

"No, only when the radio's on. And the radio gets really bad reception. Doesn't always work and gets fuzzy with too many TV's. I can turn up the TV though. Rarely ever do. Don't like hearing people's thoughts. It's wrong."

That was enough explaining the mental limitations for now, "can you tell me what you took now?"

"Didn't't take anything." Benji crawled out of bed slowly and walked to House's side of the bed, who thought about stopping him but didn't't. Curiosity. Benji opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the kit for taking blood. "I would like you believe me. The easiest way to believe something is if there is proof," Benji explained and held out his arm.

House nodded. He wanted to trust the kid too. "This might pinch a little," House mumbled, trying to be professional. "Can you sleep now?" House asked when he finished, setting the vial of blood beside the lamp, "or you going to have more nightmares?"

"May I sleep here? Beside you?" Benji sounded unsure without being able to hear House's thoughts. He didn't't want to hear House say no aloud.

House thought this over. The kid didn't seem like someone to sleep in the spread-eagle position, "yeah, just for tonight."

Benji walked around crawled back into bed, trying to contain his joy. The pair were silent for minute. "House?" Benji asked quietly.

"Go to sleep kid," House replied sleepily.

"Um, may I watch your dreams?"

House rolled over to look at Benji's face. He looked scared again. "You can do that?"

"Yeah, um, when people sleep they don't think normally. They dream, which is much more complex. I have to focus in really hard on that. Paying extra for high definition, I guess. It keeps the nightmares away, but I won't unless you want me too. They're your dreams."

"Whatever, you're still mental though."

"Thank you House. Just brush it off with a joke." Benji grinned and carefully focused on House's mind, ready for the dreams to float in.


	7. Differential for Nightmares

Differential For Nightmares

House groaned. His leg hurt so bad. He spun around quickly when he heard a painful moan that he was quite sure didn't come from his own body.

"No! Go back to sleep! Dream, man, dream!" Benji moaned. It had been so nice but was slowly slipping away.

"My leg," House moaned in return, louder and more urgent.

"What about my mind? Ten more minutes House. Just go back to sleep." Benji whined, hitting the sheets softly, lying face down.

"My le-"

"I know about your leg! You're not exactly thinking about ponies right now! Go back to sleep."

House waved his hand around the bedside table until he found a vicodin bottle.

"That's it, try four this morning," Benji mumbled sarcastically.

"I intend to," House said acidly and popped four pills into his mouth.

Benji finally gave up on his whole House-going-back-to-sleep idea. He hit the sheets one more time and sat up to face House, "call Wilson for a ride."

House shot him a look, "I'll ride my bike, and you're coming. There's an extra helmet in the closet."

"Yeah, goodness gracious should I be left alone with your drugs! And your calling Wilson!"

"Why's that oh humble infant?"

Benji rolled his eyes, "you're sure ticked when your leg hurts. Seriously though, you just had four vicodin, your leg clearly is killing you, your thoughts are all jumbled and chopped up, there's no way I'm getting on your bike with you, and Wilson conveniently has a very nice car that he's going to hop into in about ten minutes."

House had to admit that the kid made sense. He really didn't feel like riding his bike anyway. "You're co-"

Benji nodded, "yeah, it's cool. I'll come." With that, the boy crawled out of bed and walked to the living room, making a beeline for the phone. House watched curiously, wondering whether or not there was a distance factor in hearing thought waves.

Once finished talking to Wilson, Benji turned to House with a smile, "Mr. Johnson in England is worried about his cat. She hasn't been eating lately and seems to be walking slower, acting less playful and getting tired sooner. Ben in Papua New Guinea really wants to see a koala bear because his friend Zach has seen four in his lifetime. Joe in-"

House held up his hand, "got it Benji: no distance factor." He crawled out of bed painfully, snatched the vial of blood, a set of clothes, and his cane and then walked over to the shower.

"I'm having one after," Benji called after him, "I kind of reek you know!"

House and Benji stood outside for a good three minutes before Wilson arrived.

"Good morning, Benji," Wilson greeted, opening the passenger door for the boy. House was once again for the back seat. "So, what'd you guys do last night?" Wilson asked Benji, trying to be friendly. That's what Cuddy had suggested when he called her.

Benji didn't answer. "Don't talk to the kid, Wilson," House said in a lecturing tone like it was the most obvious thing ever, "he's busy."

"Busy doing what?" Wilson asked, already annoyed by House.

"Listening," House replied mysteriously. Oh, to make Wilson squirm.

"To what?" Wilson eyed Benji curiously, who appeared indeed very focused on something as he stared straight ahead.

"Everyone's thoughts. Not on purpose, he tries not to take advantage of his little talent. He has to listen to everyone's thoughts, and apparently it's very loud and distracting. He's trying to focus back in on our voices and on what's actually happening out loud. Bugs him, I guess."

Wilson thought that through. He kind of wondered why on earth the kid would pick House to tell that to. "He actually cares about you, huh?" He asked House.

"I thi-"

"Wait, can he hear us right now?" Wilson asked, slightly panicked.

"Pretty sure everything's a jumble right now."

"So…does he care about you?"

"Yeah, yeah I think he does."

No one talked for the rest of the way as Wilson digested everything. Once arrived, however, "congratulations House, you are officially time."

House reluctantly thanked Wilson and herded Benji into PPTH and up the elevator. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced enthusiastically to his ducklings, striding across to the whiteboard, "eleven-year-old male has rapid twitching and sweating as well as bloodshot eyes. Go."

Benji walked slowly across the room and propped himself on top of the counter beside the coffee pot. He could hear House's pondering of this excursion, but had missed the final decision while in the car. Why did people have to think so much and all at once?

Cameron looked over at Benji, who was wearing the same things he was when he arrived into the clinic. "Who's this?" She asked House. The poor kid looked homeless.

That touched one of Benji's nerves, "I am _not_ homeless, Cameron," he said angrily, "I was houseless, but I had people that tried their very best to make it a home. Now I have someone who makes a home," he looked toward House, "and I have a house," a smile, "double house actually: both the structure and the person."

All three gave their boss a strange look.

"Focus," was all House had to say.

"When did this occur?" Foreman asked.

"While sleeping," House replied, "like, night-time-ish."

"That sounds like a nightmare," Cameron suggested, still looking at House. What was this kid doing here?

"What else could it be?" House asked.

"I'll give you a hint: it starts with a _D,"_ Benji grumped, rolling his eyes.

House hadn't meant to humiliate the kid or anything, he just wanted his duckling to have a case and to find someone to run the blood.

"Oh, not mad at you House," Benji said quickly, "it's Chase. He doesn't like my shorts."

Chase looked stunned.

"Fo-cus." House repeated, annunciating both syllables.

"Drugs," Cameron chimed.

"Or something neurological. We should get an MRI if we can rule out nightmare and drugs," was Foreman's opinion.

"Okay, run the blood," House ordered and triumphantly produced the vial of blood from his pocket.

Foreman took the vial and left with Cameron. Chase kept looking at Benji. "I like your shorts just fine," he stuttered. If this was some puppet of House's, it seemed best to not get on it's bad side.

"Ooh, thoughts don't lie Chase," House lectured, grinning hugely.

"But…wait…what?" Chase was dumbfounded.

House and Benji both chuckled. "Page me when the labs come back. Oh and we're specifically looking for…" House couldn't resist showing off his toy even more, so turned to look at Benji.

Benji cleared his throat, "morphine, vicodin, and Advil. Definitely no MRI though," he added seriously.

"Let's go eat," House tapped Benji lightly with his cane and headed out the door. They'd missed breakfast and House desperately hoped that was why the vicodin wasn't working so great.

It took Chase a few minutes to regain composure.


	8. Trust

Trust

House's pager went off right when him and Benji finished a sandwich in the cafeteria. Neither had said a word, House now aware of Benji's predicament in crowds. To get the boy's attention, House simply tapped his leg with his cane. The pair met Cameron in House's office, Benji still a little out of it.

"He's clean for all drugs," Foreman reported, "should I order an MRI?"

Benji looked quickly into House's eyes.

"No, no, it was a nightmare," House said and walked to his other office - the one with the TV. Benji followed and the ducklings left for clinic duty.

"Do you trust me now?" Benji asked.

House cocked his head, "don't you already know whether I trust you or not? I've been thinking about that for a good 30 seconds."

Benji laughed and sat down on the floor with the over-sized tennis ball. "I just want to hear you say it out loud," he admitted.

Oh marvellous. "Yeah, kid, I trust you." No sarcasm, no concluding joke, no funny face. He meant it. He was going to trust this kid.

"Thank-you." And Benji slumped to the floor.

House stood with a confused look on his face. Huh? "Uh, Benji, you okay?" People didn't normally just crash like that. People didn't usually read minds though, so who knew? Maybe this was normal for Benji. Either way, House stretched over to grab the phone and dialled Cuddy's number. Wilson would balance at 60% angry and 40% worried about Benji, and Cuddy would probably balance at like 10% angry and 90% worried. House was never one to argue with the numbers.

"Hey, Cuddy, it's House," he was speaking too fast. Crap, he was going to get Cuddy worked up.

"House?! What's wrong? Is it Benji?"

"Yeah, he just kind of passed out in my office. Wanna come up here? Calmly, preferably?" But Cuddy had hung up the phone and started running as soon as she heard 'office'. House figured while waiting for her, he should make sure the kid could still breath. His leg practically collapsed under him bending over to check for the kid's pulse, but at least it was normal. Airway was nice and open too. No immediate threat. But the kid sure did stink.

Cuddy practically flew to her knees beside House. "What happened?!" She screeched, the complete opposite of calm. Wilson would be no better, however.

"He just fell over and conked," House said helplessly. He had a suspicion Cuddy wouldn't buy that. "His pulse is normal and his airway is good," he offered, hoping that this had a shot at calming down Cuddy.

"Benji? This is Dr. Cuddy, can you hear me?" No, still panicky. "Did he trip? Hit his head or anything?"

"No, he was just sitting on the floor and then fell over like that," he sounded so pathetic and wanted nothing more than for Benji to wake up.

"Did he take any of your drugs?" Cuddy didn't want to ask that. She knew it would hurt House, but Benji's life was just a little more important than that right now. Just right now.

House shook his head. Why would Cuddy immediately jump to that? He liked to think she thought him just a little bit more…something. "No, he's clean."

"Are you sure? Maybe while you were sleeping or something?" If House was just being stubborn…

"I tested his blood this morning, okay? Ask the team, he's clean."

Cuddy quickly checked his pulse and airway again. Still good. "Why'd you do that? Wouldn't you notice if some of your precious vicodin was missing?"

Crap, crap, crap. Why wouldn't Benji just wake up already. "It was nothing. Just double-checking. Doing the responsible thing, making sure the kid wasn't getting high." Ugh, the stupid jokes. Cuddy wouldn't just let this go.

"Seriously, House, this is important!"

House cracked, "I know it's important, Cuddy! Last night when I was sleeping he was twitching and sweating and his eyes were bloodshot and he was all delirious! Kid said it was a nightmare, but knew I didn't trust him so said I should test his blood. And he was clean!"

Cuddy wanted to touch him, calm him down. She shouldn't have gone down the drugs alley. She should've trusted House to tell her if he thought it was drugs. If the kid was important to him, he would have admit it, and if the kid wasn't it would just be a diagnosis waiting to happen. Either way, House would've told her. She felt sorry and stupid.

"Thanks House," someone whispered. House and Cuddy's heads snapped down. Benji's eyes were slowly opening and he was lifting his hand up to House. Cuddy sighed with relief. "Didn't mean to scare you there."

"Well, you kind of almost gave Cuddy a heart attack, kid. She even suspected you were on drugs! Imagine!"

Cuddy once again resisted hitting House. Benji just laughed, "go easy on him, Cuddy."

"What happened?" She demanded.

"Sorry, House, kind of your fault," Benji chuckled, replying to a thought, "it's not bad though. When I find a really, really good radio station there's kind of an overload and I, well, that happens."

"What on earth is he talking about, House? What radio?"

"Uh, he's the radio. His thoughts. Everyone else is a TV. Try to keep up with the metaphors," House replied, distracted, "so, you literally passed out with joy?"

Still laughing, "yeah, I guess so," but then his face turned grave. He looked deep into Cuddy's eyes, "he trusts me now. He believes. You have to trust him Cuddy, if he's going to help me. Just, trust him."


	9. Promise Me

Promise Me

"Go set this stuff in the kitchen," House told Benji, handing him two bags of groceries. They had gone on a silent shopping trip upon Cuddy's suggestion, buying Benji some decent clothes and more nutritious food. "And you owe me, like, fifty bucks," he added.

Benji chuckled as he headed for the kitchen, "do your toys owe you batteries, House?"

"Ha, ha. You can go change and I'll make supper. Pancakes?"

"Pancakes are good. Not as good as peanut butter, but her majesty disapproves," Benji replied, referring to Cuddy, and went to change in the washroom. Him and House had tried to stay within Benji's typical style: plain t-shirts and shorts made of harder material. Brighter top and darker, earth-tone shorts. Meanwhile, House burned two pancakes, but four survived.

As the two sat down on the couch with a glass of milk and a plate of two pancakes each, House turned to Benji, "I suppose we have to talk now. Digest the day?"

Benji shrugged. Guy caught on quick, he'd give him that. "Cuddy felt really bad about bringing up drugs," he said. He was trying to keep it casual, like it was nothing to know the thoughts and therefore feelings of someone.

"Yeah, well, I don't always admit stuff to her," House was also trying to talk casually, uncomfortable with talking about Cuddy.

"Good pancakes," part of the casual ploy, "but you know she had to ask. She didn't want to, but she had to. She hates hurting you House."

"She doesn't hurt me, Benji, except when she makes me do clinic duty. That cuts deep." Casual, House, he warned himself.

"Okay, fine, I won't go there. Thoughts don't lie, House," Benji tried to dismiss the subject, knowing that's what House was desperately wishing for.

"Are you even trying to stay out of my head?" House asked bitterly. It sure didn't seem like he was!

Benji turned serious, "very, very hard." He paused and closed his eyes, catching a thought, "sorry, I'm in your head still. Is it that bad?"

House let out a deep breath, trying to expel even a little bit of pain. Yeah, it was that bad. Since he already had no false acts or secrets from Benji, he figured he could ask for help for once in his life. "Kid, could you help me stand up so I can go to bed?" House asked, again trying to stay casual.

As Benji obliged, he asked, "was that really so difficult? To ask for help?"

"Harder than any math test, yeah," House replied, wincing when his foot brushed the floor. "Stay there, support that side."

"I never went to school."

"Why not?" So close to the bedroom…

"Too many TV's…hard to focus…the whole radio metaphor…any of this ringing a bell?" Benji paused for a moment, listening to House's jumbled thoughts, "yeah, okay, you definitely can't work while in pain. I might mention that to Wilson."

House practically cheered when he arrived at his bed. He crawled in painfully, but the position of his body slowly eased his aching leg.

"How many are you going to take? In your medical opinion-"

"Screw my medical opinion." House quickly spilled five vicodin into his greedy hand. They tasted so good against his tongue, better than any candy he had ever tried. He closed his eyes to enjoy the moment even more.

"I'm sleeping here," Benji announced with great authority, crawling into the other side of the bed.

"Change into your pyjamas, kid," House groaned. He wasn't quite sure why he cared. He personally had changed into his own pair immediately after arriving home. At least Benji didn't argue.

House laid in slowly subduing pain for a few moments before Benji climbed back under his own side of sheets. "Are you going to watch me dream again?" House asked, trying to take his mind off his leg for a few more minutes.

"May I?" Hope pierced through Benji's voice. Oh, for those few brilliant hours, he actually liked being a mentalist.

"Whatever, just they might not be as great tonight."

"Do you remember what you dreamt about last night," Benji asked, shocked at the thought he heard.

"Uh, no, just you seemed quite pleased about it, whatever it was."

"Would you like to know?"

"Knock yourself out."

Benji's voice turned almost silky, remembering this time of bliss, "you were with Cuddy and Wilson and a Chihuahua was there too. You were at the park by the hospital, the one we went to. Cuddy and Wilson were sitting on a bench talking about the nice weather. It was sunny, but not excruciatingly hot. You were chasing the Chihuahua around. Calling him Escobar. There was absolutely nothing wrong with your leg and you were so happy. You'd look at Cuddy every few minutes and smile at her. She'd smile back, reminding you of a ray of sunshine. Wilson would smile too and have a bite from his jumbo M&M cookie. After awhile Escobar got tired and trotted over to lay at Wilson's feet, who was by now without a cookie. You jogged over too and took Cuddy's hand. Music started playing - something classical, without words - and you pulled her down to lay in the grass with you. She started pointing out shapes in the clouds, first a rabbit, then a baby, then a dragon. You paid no attention to the clouds and simply watched her face. She was so incredibly beautiful."

"Then what?" House wanted more. More Cuddy, more Wilson, more unlimited happiness.

"I'm sorry," Benji's voice was no longer silky, but sad, "you woke up."

House fell silent, noticing his leg had finally stopped screaming at him. He wanted to dream again and he wanted Benji to watch so he could tell him how wide Cuddy smiled when she was with an un-crippled House.

"I know, House," Benji whispered, "can you promise me something?"

"I'm actually not that great with promises. I break them and-"

"You won't break this one. Trust me. Promise me."

"Yeah, okay, I promise." Oh, this was a very, very bad idea. Please don't have something to do with Cuddy.

"Promise me you will tell Cuddy you love her."


	10. Fate Means 'Screwed On Purpose'

_Author's Note: I sort of took a scene from season 4 House's Head and put it in here, but it's all the same show, and I think it works. I still don't own anything. :P_

Fate Means 'Screwed On Purpose'

Charlie Press exited his home at 9:07, almost falling down his front steps in his drunken state. Ugh, why was he even alive? His life was so screwed. He hated his job at the grocery store - stocking shelves for hours on end - and it wasn't like he had a loving wife to go home to. Alcohol. He was still alive because he could vanish into a pretend world of glee. Charlie chuckled to himself. He really didn't even care if someone at work noticed his condition. If he got fired, the world would not topple in on itself. "To drive," he announced to the air and marched purposefully toward his beat up old Chevy. Benji had heard all of this.

Gregory House exited his home at 9:12. He sat in the back of Wilson's car, with Benji fidgeting beside him. The boy had refused to sit in the front. He seemed antsy, like he was waiting for something.

"How many vicodin did you take this morning," Wilson asked House, concerned about his friend.

"None," House breathed through the haze of pain, "kid said it wouldn't make a difference."

"And you listened?' Sure, there was a first time for everything, but this?

"Yeah, I did. Can we just get to the hospital? I want to tell Cuddy something." House almost hit himself. The things he let slip when he was in pain.

"Tell her what? Why can't you tell me?" Wilson asked, slightly hurt by this friendship betrayal.

House took the safe route and brushed it off with a joke, "I saw her trying on this new outfit the other day and WOW, Wilson, you should've seen it. The adult thing to do is give a nice polite compliment, no?"

"Real mature," Wilson mumbled.

Beside House, Benji froze.

Charlie saw the light turn red long before he got there. Red…what did that mean again? He decided to dismiss it, thinking that if it was something really important he wouldn't have forgotten. The lack of traffic was marvellous, he thought, allowed for greater speed inclination. What the heck? Why was there a car in front of him?! Excuse me, but he was driving. He opened his mouth to yell angrily and use some very inappropriate language, but his reaction time had been slightly delayed by a certain chemical surging through his blood stream.

Benji turned to House and nodded meaningfully, "fate," he whispered.

The cars connected.

Benji heard everyone's thoughts for those few seconds. Wilson thought he was dying and started praying to his long-lost brother. He wished he could see him, just one more time. See if they looked the same, if his brother had the same annoying habits, see if he had the same women difficulties. See if they were brothers. Charlie was confused, his mind flying off in a thousand directions. Why was the car even there? Was it his fault? What did the red light mean? Who were these people? Were salmon fresh-water or salt-water fish? And House was thinking about Cuddy. I love you, I love you, I love. He repeated this over and over, as many times as he could before the car flipped completely and he landed upside-down.

"Wilson? Benji?" House called. Maybe he was still in bed and was having a nightmare from too many vicodin. Maybe this wasn't even real at all. He could only hope. Either way, he received no reply. He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and fell painfully to the ground. He turned to look in Benji's direction and almost screamed. The boy had a piece of glass jutting out from his left leg and was bleeding profusely. "Benji?" He gently tapped Benji's face, trying to get some reaction as he ripped off his own coat.

"House? Fate, House," Benji whispered.

"I have to tie this around you, Benji."

"I'm cold, House." He was so weak, so small, so innocent. He didn't deserve any of this. House worked quickly to tie his coat around Benji's leg, slowing the blood flow significantly. He sighed in relief. But there was still Wilson. He turned quickly to the front, but didn't quite make it. He passed out to the sound of sirens.

Benji woke up with a start. He spotted a nurse in the chair across the room. She was thinking about buying a new goldfish. How odd. "Cuddy? Where's Cuddy?" He asked in a frenzy. The nurse was slightly shocked. She had been sent here only twenty minutes ago to watch in case the kid woke up, but no one had expected it to be so soon. "Cuddy?" Benji asked again, even more urgently.

"Uh, yes, I'll go get her," the nurse replied as sweetly as she could.

Benji ran through the crash again, in slow motion for better detail, and placed it elegantly into his filing cabinet of a brain. Stored there also were the thoughts of every single person on earth. House, Cuddy, Wilson, and Charlie Press were near the front, with all the people they were thinking about behind them, and then all the people _they_ were thinking about were behind them, etcetera. It was a beautiful yet horribly wrong system.

"Benji!" Cuddy scurried into his room like a worried mother and pulled a chair up next to his bed. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Yeah, I do, is House okay?"

Cuddy figured this would be a bad time to ask him why he couldn't just magically read her mind. "Right when the ambulance arrived the car started on fire. House got the worst of it, but he's recovering now. You, my friend, punctured your femoral artery? Do you know what that is?" Talking all sappy and mother like. Normally that would bother Benji, but not right now.

"And Wilson?"

"He's better off than you. Benji, you're hurt." The kid didn't really have too big a concern for self-preservation.

"So they're both okay? Can I see them?"

"Wilson in maybe an hour, but he has to come to you. House…it could be awhile. Benji-"

She really wasn't going to let this slide. You didn't have to read minds to know that. "I know, a piece of glass from the window." Benji paused as something came to his mind. He pulled down the sheet and looked down at his leg. Wrapped around the wound was a thick layer of dressings. "Who?" He asked.

Cuddy's pager went off and she looked at Benji apologetically, "I'm sorry Benji, it's House. I'll send the team in to talk to you," and she rushed out.

Benji moaned, but was surprised at how quickly Chase, Cameron and Foreman arrived. Cameron sat in Cuddy's chair, Foreman sat on the edge of the bed, and Chase brought up a new chair to sit on the other side of the Benji. "Seriously, who put this on?" Benji asked.

"Benji, I'm Dr. Foreman. Can you tell me what happened?"

He could, but didn't feel like it at the moment. "Who?" He asked more urgently. It wasn't like he was asking them to explain the theory of relativity in pig Latin.

"Dr. Cuddy did it herself," Chase replied, recognizing the stubborn quality in this young child.

Benji breathed a sigh of relief. That could've been very bad.

"Please, can you tell us what happened?" Cameron asked, using her famous caring tone.

Benji made a move to sit up, but felt a searing pain shoot up his left arm and winced. Blood started dripping onto the sheets. "Thank-you for the heads-up about having stitches just put there," he mumbled sarcastically.

"I've got it," Foreman said to his colleagues, and took some gauze from a cupboard. He sat back on the bed with his best it-is-okay-kid face.

"I'll do it," Benji casually reached his right arm out to take the gauze, but Cameron eased him back down. "I'll try to say this politely: don't touch me guys." Well, it was a good effort.

"Why not?" Cameron asked. This could mean all sorts of things, and typically they weren't good.

"Um, I'd rather Cuddy do it. Well, I'd really rather House do it, he's supposed to be the only one that can touch me-"

A look of horror crossed Chase's face, "does he? Touch you?"

"Ugh, Chase, no! Just…ugh, not that! Like, holding my hand when I get nightmares and stuff, and apparently putting a dressing on a wound, and applying gauze."

Foreman hit Chase lightly on the arm and gave him the what-is-wrong-with-you look.

"Just, give me the gauze. Apply pressure right?" Benji didn't wait for a reply and snatched the gauze anyway. No one took the liberty to stop him. The bleeding quickly stopped and Benji smiled up at his audience, "tada!"

"Now can you tell us what happened? From the lying down position, preferably." Chase was trying to regain professionalism, with some avail.

Benji took a deep breath and began his narration. His thought radio was playing very loudly, sharing every single detail starting at 9:07am. "It was fate," he concluded.


	11. Wake Up Now

Wake Up Now

When Benji woke up for the second time, Wilson was sleeping in the chair beside the hospital bed. "Wilson," Benji whispered. He felt bad for waking up a sleeping man, but he needed to know about House.

Wilson woke up with a start and looked around. His eyes fell on Benji and he smiled. "How are you feeling?" He asked, "you've been asleep for about nine hours."

"How is House? Did he wake up yet?"

Wilson sighed, "no, he's still out. Cuddy is with him right now. Benji, seriously, how are you feeling?"

"But is he okay?"

"Ben-"

It is rude to interrupt, but sometimes it's necessary, "on a scale of 1-10, one being you and ten being Charlie Press, is he okay?"

Wilson opened his mouth to answer, but simply gave Benji a surprised look. No one had said anything about the drunk driver, and especially not around Benji. "How did you-?"

Benji was getting frustrated. Why was the world so keen on focusing on him? "He's dead. That's part of the whole concept of fate. Focus, Wilson, scale of 1-10."

Wilson figured he'd lost this battle, like he often did with House. "He's maybe a six, okay? Now, how are you feeling? Kind of need you to talk to me."

Benji quickly calmed down. Six was not bad. "I feel good, I think. Kind of sore, but that's to be expected, right?" He cocked his head at Wilson, who seemed to be confused.

"Do you remember what happened? Like, while you were sleeping?"

Benji shook his head. He could take a guess, though, and say it was something bad.

Wilson's whole figure slumped and he turned cancer-doc, "I was in here with Cuddy and you started sweating. Then you started twitching uncontrollably and your eyes flung open. They were bloodshot and red. Cuddy started talking to you and you asked her to hold your hand. That seemed to help, but it took you a good ten minutes to calm down and go back to sleep. The team ran a differential. They want to give you an MRI, in case it's something neurological from the crash."

Crap, crap, crap. "Nightmare," Benji stuttered.

"Cuddy said that House mentioned this happening before, when you were sleeping at his apartment. She said he ran a tox-screen, but it was clean. The team took a blood sample and are running it right now. Will it be clean?" He was worried about this kid. He seemed messed up, like he was lost.

"Pe-people have nightmares. Trust, Wilson. House trusts me."

Wilson sighed. "Okay," he wasn't going to say the exact words, but hoped that this was good enough, "what about House? Did he take anything?"

Benji shook his head fervently, "no, I told him not to. He took five last night, and they took a while to work. He didn't take anything since."

"Five?!"

"That morning he took four, and they barely did anything. Something's wrong, Wilson."

Wilson tried to shake off the startling vicodin count, but was relieved because now things made since, "he had way too much vicodin in his blood. Built up a tolerance, so he had to take more vicodin for his body to recognize it as a pain-killer. He lost a lot of blood during the crash so he got a transfusion of clean blood, and he's been clean since, so by the time he wakes up one vicodin should do it again."

Very, very good. Benji took a deep breath and released it. Now all he needed was for House to wake up. "How long, do you think, before House wakes up?"

"Hours, probably. Cuddy is going to stay with him, and I'm going to stay with you. My pager will go off like a siren if anything comes up. Is that okay?" Poor kid. He cared so much about House.

"Can we go back to sleep?"

Wilson chuckled, "you can. I'm supposed to be watching you in case you have another nightmare."

Benji shook his head, a scared look in his eye, "can you though? Are you physically capable of falling back to sleep?"

Another chuckle, "honestly, I'm beat."

Benji smiled, "go to sleep Wilson."

"Ben-"

"May I listen to your dreams? I won't have a nightmare, then, and it'll all be good." Pleading, almost. Please say yes, Wilson.

Huh? "Can you-?"

"Um, yeah. I can't have my own dreams, just nightmares, so if I replace those with someone else's dreams…they are your dreams though, so it's your call."

"Is this part of your mentalist thing?"

A nod.

"Okay, go ahead. Good night kid."

"Good night Wilson."

Cuddy wiped her silent tears. He looked so helpless, so unlike himself. House was dressed only in a pair of boxers and a loose hospital robe. His whole right arm and torso was wrapped in gauze, to protect his severe burns from infection. Cuddy had pulled the sheet up to his shoulders, knowing he would want to hide his injuries as much as possible. And it made Cuddy weep harder to see his gnarled right leg. Cameron had retold Benji's story of the crash to her, trying to be word-for-word. House had saved Benji's life. Another thirty seconds and the boy would've lost a fatal amount of blood. House could've left the car, for he was barely injured when he unbuckled himself. He could've been perfectly fine except for a few scrapes and bruises. But Benji would've died.

"Oh, House," more tears fell onto his sheet. She wanted to lay beside him, but knew it would cause him way too much pain. That level of morphine could only do so much. "I'm sorry House," she whispered, running on the assumption that he could hear her, "that kid really loves you. He's so worried, won't talk about himself until someone tells him how you are. He's okay though, Wilson's watching him. He had another nightmare last night, though. It was horrible, but he asked me to hold his hand and that seemed to help. Chase said that you and I are the only one's allowed to touch him. He said you held his hand when he had his last nightmare. Benji was right, you didn't screw anything up." The waterworks escalated as she prayed for him to wake up and make a joke.

Nothing.

"You saved his life House. You could've died, but you saved him anyway," she cried even harder, "wake up now House. Please."


	12. Purpose

Purpose

House's eye's slowly fluttered open. The first thing he saw was a marvellous view of two of the people he cared about most. Cuddy was sitting nearest the head of the bed, sound asleep, her face tear-stained. Benji was sitting beside her, smiling hugely as he made eye contact with House. The kid was back into his normal clothes, so he had to be alright. Cuddy hadn't lied to him about that. But she hadn't mentioned…

"Wilson? Where's Wilson?" He asked, slightly panicky. He was missing from this almost perfect view. But, thankfully, he heard the creaking of a chair across the floor as Wilson stood up and peered over to look at House's face from the other side of the bed. House quickly rolled onto his back to have equal view of both sides.

"He's alive!" Wilson exclaimed, throwing his hands up triumphantly.

House looked to Cuddy, worried that Wilson had awoken her. She looked like she could really use some rest, and fortunately she hadn't stirred the slightest bit. Benji was still beaming.

"She was here the whole time, except for maybe two minutes when she was with Benji," Wilson said, significantly quieter than before. Then he nodded at the boy and left. House didn't object, for this looked pre-arranged.

"I came to you for a reason," Benji began. He was focused, putting great thought into every word, "I have a gift for a reason. I have a purpose."

"And I'm a part of this purpose?" House asked, following along with as much concentration.

"Yes, you are different than other people. You view people different, react different, you even have a slightly different way of thinking. And you aren't happy, same as me. I've followed your thoughts for months, making sure, filing you away into my brain, making sure. You deserve to be happy, House. That is my purpose."

House nodded. Cuddy.

Benji nodded and smiled, "fate, House."

A thought suddenly came to House and he gave Benji a sideways glance, "did you know about the crash? Before it happened? You seemed like you were waiting for something. Was that fate?"

"Yes, that was fate. It's all part of my purpose, House. All part of the path to your happiness, and therefore mine. Don't get the wrong idea, that I caused it. It was fate, already pre-determined."

"May I ask you something?"

"Please do, I'm getting really bad TV reception right now and it's frustrating." He smiled. Truth be told, he loved it.

"Okay, what are your nightmares about? Are they about fate?"

Benji's face turned grave, remembering all these moments of pure horror. "They are about fate, yes. But this is fate mocking me. See, you can change fate, once you know how it's going to turn out. Like, if you know the red bridge is rickety before you step on it, then you can step on the much safer blue bridge. There are always two paths. My nightmares are things happening at that exact moment. Horrible things, like murders and suicides and car crashes. I hear the thoughts going through everyone's heads. Some scream, some pray, some laugh at the irony. And I can't do the slightest thing about it."

House went silent.

Wilson came up to the door and looked in at Benji, who nodded. "Anybody hungry?" Wilson asked. Personally, he really felt like a cheeseburger, even though it was almost four in the morning.

Benji smiled at House, "peanut butter, please. Two spoons."

Wilson left again.

"Why's the TV bad?" House asked. His toy was still interesting, even though he cared about it a bit more now.

"Not sure. I know it's wishful thinking, but maybe when I become closer to fulfilling my purpose, the tools necessary will fade away. Perhaps we need a metaphor…" he laughed.

"Or you were in a car crash and hit your head too hard and now everything's going haywire. I know, that's like a one in a million shot, but, geez, if it wasn't the little mentalist that couldn't all over again. No MRI though, I suppose?" It felt good to joke around with Benji. Sure his body felt like crap, but it was awesome when his brain felt good.

"Woah, you can, like, read my mind or something. No MRI. My second tox-screen of the week came up clean, though. You know, if you were still paranoid about your drugs."

"Maybe you're selling them on the street while I'm at work. Or perhaps when I'm passed out in a hospital bed. Maybe you're selling them to Wilson…he always seemed the jealous type."

"Oh, so close. It's Foreman. His homeys bailed on him. Tragic, but profitable."

House laughed, deep from his core. And that was the sound Cuddy had been waiting days to hear. She sat bolt upright in her chair and stared at House. "House!" She screeched and started crying. Tears of joy were such an incredible thing.

"Do you think I should page Wilson to get three spoons? When's the last time you ate, Cuddy? You look awful." House smiled and braced himself for huge wet hug. They stayed like that for a good thirty seconds before House pulled her away to look into her eyes. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he couldn't. Not right now, at this moment. It just didn't feel right. Maybe it was because she was tired and crying, and tomorrow she would try to rationalize it as him taking over her vulnerability. He was also running on the assumption that he was on morphine, since his leg didn't hurt in the slightest. Yes, not now. Of all the things for Benji's bad reception to pick him, he heard that and slumped slightly.

"You saved his life, House," Cuddy said in her beautiful voice, looking to Benji.

"Yeah, I heard. You owe me one kid," brush it off with a joke.

Benji smiled, "yeah, right. I've gotten you out of how many hours of clinic duty?" He turned to Cuddy and said, "I meant to ask this earlier, but you were sleeping. Could House have about, say, a week off clinic duty?" He gave her his best puppy dog eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. You've already lived with House for too long."

House bowed his head gracefully, "we, my good man, are even."

Wilson returned minutes later with a jar of peanut butter and two spoons as well as a double cheeseburger for himself. He sat back down and looked at Cuddy and Benji, who smiled. Cuddy rolled her eyes when House and Benji started eating their gourmet meal, however. House just beamed. Compared to the last few weeks of his life, and perhaps years, this felt incredibly right. And it made it even better to know that this was indeed deliberate. On purpose. Benji's purpose.


	13. Excuses Are Brilliant

Excuses Are Brilliant

Before sitting up, House popped a single vicodin. Wilson had very professionally explained how he had developed a tolerance to vicodin, and that's why he had to take an excess amount. It was a relief, he had to admit. Everything would be good now as far as that matter was concerned.

Other parts of his body, however, were not doing so well. His torso and right arm were still wrapped up and stung to the touch. It also hurt to move and he was forced to limp even slower. He had insisted on changing back to his pyjamas, however, hating the feeling of being a patient. Benji was on crutches and hobbled alongside House, like they were on some kind of a team. Both were verbally jealous of Wilson, who only had a tight calf like you might get from running without stretching, and a few scrapes in various places. Cuddy was still thrilled they were all alive.

"I think Wilson should carry me," House suggested as the group of four headed to the elevator.

"And I think I should get to be as tall as you, but some things are just not meant to be," Wilson retorted jokingly, "and I suppose I'm giving you a ride home?" They were now inside the elevator, heading down to ground level.

"Actually, Wilson, I think I will. You should rest some more and this one very pleasant patient of yours keeps asking about you," Cuddy said, using her persuasive administrative skills. They really weren't necessary, seeing as that's what Wilson wanted to do. To Cuddy, however, this was just an excuse.

"Ooh, thrilling," House joked, quite pleased with the outcome of this conversation. Wilson still wasn't carrying him, though.

For once in his life, House was allowed to ride shotgun. This seemed to please Benji immensely, who sat alone in the backseat, slightly focused on all the thoughts around him. House noticed this, "TV still bad?" He asked. What if the kid actually did hit his head too hard?

Benji just nodded. The thoughts were fuzzy, but they were still distracting. He still couldn't think or talk, which was incredibly frustrating.

"He okay?" Cuddy whispered to House.

"Oh yeah, peachy. Bad reception."

Cuddy didn't bother asking. She probably wouldn't understand even with a whole bunch of stupid jokes thrown into the explanation. Probably not even with a metaphor.

"Thanks Cuddy," Benji chimed from the back when they arrived and then leaned forward so he was parallel to House. "Can I have the key?" He asked, then whispered, "she'd like to talk to you. And don't forget your promise."

House rolled his eyes and gave the boy the key to the apartment, adding, "you so better let me in," just for kicks.

Benji just laughed and exited the car.

Cuddy cleared her throat, trying to expel all traces of what might become a nervous tone, "I was thinking, since you have to change those," she gestured to House's arm and torso, where his dressing could be seen slightly through his shirt, "and you can't do it yourself and it's hardly fair to get Benji to do it, I could do it."

Again House wanted so badly to tell her that he loved her, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He tried to remain in character, instead, "so, like, come here three times a day. The gas companies will like that."

Cuddy smiled nervously and looked at House's face, "or I could just stay here."

House beamed. Why, exactly, couldn't he just tell her? He didn't hesitate to tell her insulting or humiliating things, but couldn't he tell her the one thing they both wanted him to say? Maybe he should just get Benji to do it for him. "Yeah, that works too." They laughed lightly, trying to break the thin line of tension, before walking inside.

Benji was sitting relaxed on the couch, his feet resting out on the coffee table. He turned and shook his head at House, "tsk, tsk. I expected so much from you."

"Shut up kid and turn on the TV." House said, throwing the nearest thing at him, which happened to be a Kleenex box. He missed by a good foot. Benji just laughed. Cuddy just rolled her eyes. Men.

"Do you want me to order in," Cuddy asked, changing the subject.

"Probably," Benji replied, "unless you want pancakes or Kraft Dinner."

Cuddy laughed, "Chinese okay?" She searched the phone book for a decent-looking place while House sat down next to Benji, who had turned the TV on to Animal Planet. House hoped it would be about platypuses, but there was no such luck. Peruvian water-fowl. Cuddy ordered several dishes, which all sounded pretty good to House. Cuddy hung up and turned to the TV, "they don't deliver, so I'm going to pick it up, okay?"

House made a dramatic face, even though he knew Cuddy couldn't see it, "oh my goodness, I don't know if we'll survive!"

Cuddy laughed and left. House immediately turned off the TV and looked at Benji.

"So you heard the whole conversation in the car?"

"Yeah, sorry, I kind of turned that up a lot."

"I thought you didn't do that."

"I do when it's a significant part of fulfilling my purpose."

"She's staying here professionally, kid. Did you miss that part?"

"Right," Benji dragged the word out sarcastically, "did you miss the part where you love her and she loves you back and you almost died and she couldn't stop crying and now you're alive and she doesn't want to leave your side unless she has to (picking up dinner). Your little injury there is just an excuse to be with you, same as what she did with Wilson in the elevator."

"Genius," House said proudly.

Benji shrugged, "excuses are brilliant."

Cuddy returned and the next few hours were spent over delicious Chinese food, small talk about the weather, angry clinic patients, and Animal Planet. When House looked at the clock, it was past ten o'clock. "I'm gonna go shower," he announced and limped off to his bedroom for a pair of clean underwear and a new pyjama top. Cuddy followed him, closing the door behind her. Benji apologized to God for sinning, and turned up the volume on his metaphorical TV. The literal TV was silenced.

"Do you want me to get that for you?" Cuddy asked, gesturing again to his wounds.

House nodded and smiled, "be gentle."

Cuddy moved close to him and slowly began pulling his t-shirt off. At his ribcage she felt the unique dressing material and heard House wince. She whispered an apology and continued. "For the next few days, would it be at all possible to sleep in a button-up shirt?" She asked, hating every moment that she touched a dressing and made House wince. It was even harder to get his arms out, but she was successful.

"No, you'll just have to do that." He smiled. The whole time he was thinking about how much he loved her. He wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss her. Why couldn't he just tell her? "I…" Ugh, come on! "I think I'm going to sit down." NO! Brain of House slapped Mouth of House and called it all kinds of rude names.

Cuddy nodded as he sat down on the bed. "I'm sorry if I touch you," she decided to apologize for everything beforehand. House just nodded. She started with his arm, moving even slower than she had taking off his shirt. If she hurt him…

House watched her face the whole time. She was so beautiful.

When Cuddy finished with the arm, she walked over to the garbage can and threw the blood-stained dressing in. She walked back and took a deep breath, "okay, um, I'll be careful."

"I know," House whispered, still watching her perfect face.

She started at top, right where House's ribcage ended. With every movement House loved her more. She was so focused, terrified of hurting him. He could never really believe that she loved him after everything he put her through, but now he knew she did. Cuddy's face slowly left House's vision and he looked down at himself. His dressings were gone.

"I look like burnt wood," he commented.

Cuddy laughed, glad that she hadn't hurt him too bad, "just don't touch it. I left everything in the car, so while you're showering I'll go get it. When you're done just come back here, and I'll hear you."

House laughed, "actually, Benji will just let you know when I'm almost done. I think he's stalking me." With that he went off to the shower.

He wanted Cuddy. He didn't want to spend a single moment away from her. He knew he'd said some awful stuff to her, but she didn't seem to care. She loved him as House, just like Benji did. He thought about her the whole time he showered, and the whole time he was drying himself off. He had to do everything one-handed, with his weaker hand, but it wasn't so bad. He dabbed all the places he was burned, first popping a vicodin, and wincing several times. Gently he retraced the exact same places Cuddy had touched, remembering exactly how it felt. It had felt way better than good. He wanted more.

"That's your cue," Benji said with a chuckle, nodding to Cuddy. She grabbed the backpack from her car that she had placed by the door and headed back to House's bedroom. He followed her this time, but only by seconds. He was sure he saw Benji shake his head from the couch.

"Did that hurt?" Cuddy asked, unpacking the backpack as House made his way back to sit on the bed.

"No, I'm beat though," House yawned and looked at the clock. Past eleven. He wondered for a moment how long it took Cuddy to take off his dressings last time. It seemed like only seconds.

Cuddy started and was dangerously close to House. He wanted to pull her gently closer, feel her warm skin against his, as had happened in those few moments when she touched his wounds. I love you Cuddy, he thought. He knew he couldn't say it. If Benji asked, she was still too worried about him and was still vulnerable. She would dismiss it in the morning. It wouldn't be real.

"Still okay?" Cuddy asked, trying to remain professional as she finished wrapping House's torso. She wanted to lean in farther, be even closer. She couldn't help it, and purposely brushed her hand across a healthy piece of his shoulder, on the way to his burnt arm. It took every ounce of House's willpower to not touch her back. Benji was probably going insane in the other room, for that was exactly what he wanted House to do.

"Would it be easier if I just slept like this? Without a t-shirt?" House asked.

Cuddy nodded professionally and they walked out into the living room. Benji was sulking on the couch.

"Go to sleep kid," House said, parent-like.

"So am I sleeping on the couch?" Cuddy asked House, "I thought someone said that he slept beside you?"

Benji intervened, "no, that was just because of nightmares. I sleep on the couch though."

"And you won't have nightmares sleeping on the couch? I don't want to have to run another tox-screen." House knew what Benji was trying to do, and he could think of a bunch of ways it could end badly.

"May I listen to you dream, Cuddy?" Benji asked, noting that she didn't look surprised at the question.

"Wilson mentioned you doing that. And you may, if it stops you from having nightmares," Cuddy replied, mother-like. "Good night Benji."

House and Cuddy walked back to the bedroom, but not without House shooting Benji a look. Cuddy grabbed her backpack and headed to the bathroom. "I'm going to go change and brush my teeth," she explained. House nodded and crawled into his side of bed. He was starting to hate Benji.

Cuddy returned wearing a blue tank-top and black shorts that didn't even come close to reaching her knees. House vaguely remembered that outfit on a commercial. "Don't even think about it House," she warned jokingly and crawled into the other side of the bed.

"Who me?" House looked around innocently. Yeah him, that's all he was thinking about. He then looked right at Cuddy, who looked back with her perfect eyes. "Thank-you Cuddy," he whispered.

Honestly, that's all Cuddy was thinking about, too. "You're welcome House." Being the emotionally weaker of the two, Cuddy cracked slightly. She rolled over onto her side and placed her hand over House's heart. She almost hit herself with the other hand. Now what? House was hurt and therefore vulnerable and he was probably going to think that she was just taking advantage of that. Thinking of nothing better, she quickly pulled her hand away and stupidly said, "heart rate is good."

House smiled and reached out in the dark to retrieve this hand of incredible happiness. "Check again," he whispered, unable to find it. Cuddy obeyed, but slightly reluctantly. And she fell asleep listening to the rhythm of his heart. _Greg House, Greg House, Greg House. _


	14. American Woman

American Woman

House was lolled awake by the famous guitar lick to Guess Who's _American Woman. _He smiled and listened to Benji hit each note perfectly. He momentarily wondered if the kid could sing. Turning his head to the left, his smile widened.

"Good morning, House," Cuddy whispered.

House laughed, "if this is a hallucination, I'm going to shoot myself." He meant that, too, but decided to say it as a joke. That was usually best.

Cuddy rolled her eyes, "always jumping to drugs. Sit up, I have professional duties, you know."

House looked at the clock, "are you just screwing work for the next few days? Wait, am I just screwing work for that next few days," the thought was marvellous and plausible, as it was already past ten. The hospital's administrator was generally required to wake up at a very gloomy six o'clock. She was either not going to work, or was going to be very, very late.

Cuddy nodded and continued smiling. She sat up and looked at House, waiting.

House moaned like a little kid, "can't I eat first? How would feel if you were being all doctor-like and I starved to death?" He didn't wait for an answer and slowly crawled out of bed. He popped a vicodin and grabbed his cane. Cuddy followed in his wake to the kitchen.

"Don't you think that might scare the kid?" Cuddy whispered, nodding at House's burns. The dressings hid them almost completely, but not entirely.

House smiled and gave her a very distinct once-over, "what about your little get-up? Little revealing, don't you think? They have an age-limits on strip-clubs for a reason, you know."

Cuddy gave him an oh-real-mature face and hit him lightly on his good arm. She had to admit though, the guy made good pancakes. Benji stopped playing and sat on the couch next to House and Cuddy. House still hadn't told her.

"Where'd you learn how to play that?" Cuddy asked between delicate feminine mouthfuls.

"House dreamt about it. At least you kept one promise," he shot House a look. House just stuck out his tongue.

"What did I dream about?" House was the most curious person in New Jersey, and Cuddy definitely ranked top four. She also hadn't changed her position on sitting in silence with House.

"A llama farm."

Cuddy slumped slightly. She had hoped it would be something very intelligent, but she didn't remember so it was probably about a stupid llama farm. Benji just laughed.

"Just kidding," he said, "you were on the beach, lying in the sand. No one else was there, even though it was an absolutely beautiful day. You were wearing the same as what you are now and you were humming something I didn't recognize. A canary was on the end of your toe, singing along. He was absolutely perfect and had the brightest blue eyes. And you kept humming and he kept singing, for hours. Do you remember your dream, House?"

The kid was focused, like this was important, so House answered promptly, "no, haven't remembered any since you got here."

Benji sighed, "I think that's my fault. I think when I listen to people's dreams, I steal them."

"You realize we aren't even anymore, right? You owe me the equivalent of…a bunch of dreams."

"Yeah, and I'll pay you right back as soon as you fulfill your promise!" Benji snapped.

House burned to fulfill his promise. Every time she came to close to him, every time he looked at her, and especially when her delicate fingers brushed against his skin. Every second of the day, as they watched TV, ate, played music, or simply laughed, he burned to tell her. He laughed at the irony. Cuddy was an American woman, but he wanted to see her face every second of every day for the rest of his life.

Guess Who - American Woman:

American woman, stay away from me

American woman, mama let me be

Don't come hangin' around my door

I don't wanna see your face no more

I got more important things to do

Than spend my time growin' old with you


	15. Silence

_Author's Note: I'm sorry, I like him too._

Silence

Walking. House enjoyed walking in general, but with Cuddy and Benji it was even better. It was a fairly nice day in the park, but also fairly empty. A young woman jogged by, skin tinted with sweat and her cheeks bright red. An old man sat on a bench with the newspaper, a trucker's hat covering most of his grey hair. A university student sat under a tree, meaningfully highlighting words in a textbook. The sun was poking out from a white fluffy cloud, one of few in the pale blue sky and wind remained calm.

It had been about noon when Benji had suggested going for the walk, and his face was now very focused as he walked alongside Cuddy and House. He sat down absentmindedly on the nearest bench, House looking at him with mild concern.

"Hey, Benji, are you okay? There's not even that many people here," House waved his hand in front of the boy's face, who had no reaction. The jogger had passed by and he couldn't imagine the old man being that much of a distraction. Possibly the student, but Benji had been fully competent with more people than this before.

"What's wrong?" Cuddy asked, again mother-like. Benji's eyes had clouded over and turned a much darker blue.

"Probably nothing," House shrugged it off and sat down on the other side of the bench. Cuddy sat next to him. House desperately sorted through reasons why now was a bad time to tell her. Nothing came up. Now his only excuse was that he was a chicken. Slowly he turned to face Cuddy. She was so incredibly beautiful. He gently raised his good hand and stroked Cuddy's face lovingly. She smiled and closed her eyes, wanting to freeze this moment. "I love you, Cuddy," House whispered.

Behind them Benji was vigorously writing on a piece of scrap paper, his body stiff and his eyes dark. As Cuddy and House stared at each other, completely addicted, Benji crumpled the paper in his hand and held it there in a death grip. His body loosened and his eyes returned to normal. Most beautiful of all, everything was silent.

House heard Benji collapse first, and flung over the bench to drop down to his side. The small boy was completely still and limp. Cuddy ran around and knelt beside House, who was quickly checking for a pulse. He swore loudly and began compressions. Cuddy whipped out her cell-phone and dialled PPTH, announcing herself and demanding paramedics. House gave Benji a few breaths and checked again for a pulse, finding nothing. He swore again and started over. Cuddy choked back tears, trying to be as professional as House, who was still trying desperately to get Benji's pulse back.

The paramedics arrived with a defibrillator, as Cuddy had requested, and House snatched it. He swore again as he waited for it to charge, "clear!" he yelled, louder and angrier than necessary. After four times, Cuddy stopped him gently.

"House," she whispered.

"They can go now," House replied, gesturing to the paramedics, who obeyed with their heads hung. They hated not being able to save someone, especially a child.

"House," Cuddy whispered again.

House swore again, "this wasn't part of the deal, Benji!" he yelled, "you weren't supposed to die in the end! How is that fate? You're screwed! You're dead, Benji!" Tears quietly dripped from his eyes, falling onto Benji's plain red shirt.

It took every ounce of Cuddy's strength to not ball her eyes out. She placed an arm around House's back, trying to be comforting. She half-expected him to knock it away, but he didn't. She took her other hand and moved to hold Benji's, but his hand was curled into a fist. Cuddy uncurled it and a crumpled note fell out. Her and House read it silently.

_House,_

_I had to die. I would've told you, but then you wouldn't have fulfilled your promise. Thank-you for doing that, for caring about me. All I ever wanted was to be like other people, with a family and friends and a house. And I want out of everyone's head, most of all. I told you that my purpose was to make you happy, which is true, but I think it is also to make me happy. The few seconds before I died, everything was silent. It started out very, very loud, so loud my body wasn't working right and I to sit down. But then you said it, and everything was perfect. I couldn't hear a single thought, whether it was in Hong Kong or the other side of the park. For the first time in my life, there was silence. I was happy, House. Now take care of Cuddy. She is your happiness._

_I love you, Benji_

"What does that mean House?" Cuddy asked, her voice soft and caring.

House smiled, despite his tears, "he made me promise to tell you that I love you. He made Wilson's car crash. He made himself die, even. But he made himself happy, and he made me happy. That was his purpose, I guess, and as a bonus he got his silence."


	16. Dealings

Dealings

"How's he doing?" Wilson asked Cuddy solemnly. They were sitting in Cuddy's office, having just taken Benji's body to the morgue, which had taken hours to go through all the details. House had insisted on walking back home. He didn't want a single thing to do with the details of Benji's death.

"He cried, Wilson," Cuddy moaned, her head in her hands.

Wilson nodded slowly, thinking this through. "He really did care about this kid," he said carefully, "I think more than he's cared about anyone in a long time."

"I'm worried about him," Cuddy whispered. She'd never seen House deal with the loss of someone he actually gave a crap about, let alone someone he practically loved.

Wilson nodded again, "are you going back to his apartment? For your professional dressing-changing duties?" He spoke seriously. This wasn't even close to a joke.

Cuddy nodded. It would take an act of God to keep her away from House. Good thing an act of God was what was keeping her close to him.

Wilson sighed. He didn't want to go here, but Cuddy was occasionally naïve when it came to House, "watch his drugs. In the past, that's typically how he deals with every kind of pain, even emotional. He'll never ask for help, you just have to give it to him."

Cuddy released a deep breath of air. She had to tell Wilson eventually. She raised her head and looked at him, "Wilson, he loves me."

Wilson fought to keep his composure, stay serious, "did he tell you that?"

"Yes. Benji made him promise. He told me today at the park, and then Benji died."

Wilson stared open mouthed. Well then. "Um, okay," a swallow to clear some of the shock, "do you…do you love him?"

"I think I do, Wilson. The other nigh-"

"CUDDY!" The classic Wilson-freak-out had been inevitable. Oh well, it was a good run.

Cuddy just shot him a look, "no, Wilson."

Wilson calmed back down and reengaged in present conversation, slightly embarrassed.

"He just makes me feel good. I like being close to him, I like when he talks, and I like when my fingers brush against his skin."

Wilson shook his head, "are you sure Cuddy? You can't just think so and let him think you love him back. He's already messed up now because of Benji, and if you start toying with him…"

Cuddy shook her head, trying to focus on something Benji had written, "Benji said that he has to take care of me, because I am his happiness. He said his purpose was for House to be happy. He said that this is fate, Wilson."

Wilson nodded. The mind-reader hadn't been wrong about anything so far. "Go see him then. And you'll call if anything happens, right?"

Cuddy smiled and stood up to leave, "of course Wilson."

When Cuddy walked in, House was laying on the couch. In his fingers he twirled a bottle of vicodin, his eyes closed as he listened to the sound. "Hi," he mumbled. He sat up and put his feet on the coffee table, making room for Cuddy to sit beside him.

"How are you?" She asked, accepting the seat. She eyed the vicodin bottle, which was suspiciously half-full.

"The kid's dead, but you're here, so I dunno," House mumbled, continuing his twirling.

"I'll always be here," Cuddy replied, making House smile slightly. "Are you in pain?" She asked. House's burns had been healing quite nicely, and they hardly hurt. The vicodin bottle worried her more by the second.

"Not my burns, no. My leg was, but I took one," House replied, still focused on his own thoughts.

"Just one?" Would he lie to her now?

"Yeah, I'm not going to OD or anything. Not with you here." He wasn't hurt by the question. It was typical of him to OD after things like this. Cuddy would be his drug. "He was so incredibly interesting. And powerful. He could hear every single person's thoughts. Every single one on this whole earth. And he hated it. He said it was wrong, that people's thoughts are there's to have and he shouldn't get to listen in on them. He could get whatever he wanted and he knew it, but he chose not to unless it was something he desperately needed, like living with me. He felt so bad for what he said about you and Wilson, how he abused his ability, he said. I'm glad he got that moment of silence."

All Cuddy could do was nod. This was like somewhat like a funeral, for a kid no one knew and even fewer cared about. "He sure could play guitar."

House looked at Cuddy and smiled. At that moment he decided that he was okay. Benji had gotten his moment of happiness, that he had been craving for his whole entire life, regardless of how short it had been. So House made a face of mock offence, "he could play? He could only play because I dreamt about playing! I can play, Cuddy!"

Cuddy laughed. "So you're alright? You can deal with this?"

A nod, "yeah, I'm good. Now, come on, be a good nurse," he set the vicodin bottle down on the table and pulled Cuddy up to stand with him. They walked back to House's bedroom, and repeated the process. Again the were silent, both enjoying the moment of such near proximity. "And I know Benji's not sleeping on the couch, but just in case I do try and OD, I think you should sleep beside me," House said, making a face much like a small child trying to solve a math problem. He laughed as Cuddy left to change and he pulled on his own pyjamas. He loved her.

Cuddy happily crawled back in beside House, noticing how he looked at her face. "I told Wilson," she said with a smile.

House cocked his head, "I'm surprised he hasn't come here with a shotgun."

"He wants you to be happy, House."

"Well, for Wilson…" House laughed and stroked Cuddy's face.

Again Cuddy took her hand and placed it over his heart. She didn't know why, but that gave the greatest feeling of euphoria she had ever experience. Perhaps because it proved that he was there, alive, with her. Perhaps the steady pulsing lulled her to sleep. Perhaps it was because she could tell that House enjoyed it too. Perhaps it was simply because the heart is the symbol for love. And holy crap did she love House.


	17. Every Last Piece

Every Last Piece

House slowly dialled Wilson's number, something nagging at him telling him that this was a very bad idea, but knowing it was just his mind trying to create an excuse.

"House, do you know what time it is?" Wilson moaned. Why did House only decide to act human during the early hours of the morning? Say, four in the morning. "Where's Cuddy?" The concerned Wilson now, being the good supportive friend. That was more important than the annoyed lecturing Wilson.

"She's still asleep," House replied, wanting to get through the intro.

The annoyed lecturing Wilson wormed it's way back in, "oh, I can't possibly imagine. I just got back from a jog, and right after this conversation I have plans for a poker game."

"Wilson, what if I hurt her?"

Wilson sighed, his concern for his friend now paramount, "you won't hurt her House. She loves you."

"That doesn't seem to matter. People around me get hurt. You got your car crashed, Cuddy sat crying beside my bedside, and now Benji's dead. What if my fate it just to screw up everyone's lives?"

"You won't hurt her, House," Wilson repeated with more intensity, "Benji died knowing with his whole being that you won't hurt her."

House nodded.

"How are your burns?" Wilson asked, changing the subject.

House smiled. Wilson was like a very good dog that did the same things every single day, never differing from his behavioural path. "The dressings aren't on anymore. Can't even tell they're there until I look at them, and aren't that noticeable. Or until Cuddy looks at them, professionally or otherwise. You know, whichever," House realized he was no different from such a dog. When things had been even slightly tense, he'd just brush it off with a joke and move on. "See ya Wilson, thanks," House heard Wilson yawn a quick farewell and they hung up. They both crawled back into their beds, Wilson alone and House beside Cuddy.

At exactly 10:36, House woke up again. He turned to his side to look at Cuddy, but she had already awoken up. He could faintly hear the muffles of the television. Walking into the living room, he noticed she was watching Animal Planet. A special on platypuses. House laughed slightly, and with every last piece of his being, just as Benji was sure about his purpose, he was sure that this was right. He wouldn't hurt Cuddy.

"Good morning, House," Cuddy chimed, as House sat down beside her. She had already gotten dressed in a pair of black pants and a red blouse, planning on dropping in to work for at least a few hours. Just to make sure the system hadn't imploded on itself.

"Good morning," he stroked her face, feeling another wave of euphoria.

Cuddy looked into his eyes, "you want to kiss me, don't you?"

House smiled and nodded. Ever so slowly they leaned in to each other, allowing their lips to meet delicately. House brushed his hand down her hair and placed it loosely around her waist, their lips still entwined. Cuddy linked her hands around his neck and slowly dropped them to his waist, feeling every fibre of his loose shirt and every contour of his back. They stayed like that for a few beautiful moments, feeling a constant flow of ecstasy and a sense of incredible meaning.

Gently Cuddy moved her fingers to remove House's shirt, wondering momentarily why he hadn't already began with her blouse. House removed his hand from her waist and entwined it in her fingers.

"Don't," he whispered, pulling slowly from her lips. He kissed her lightly but meaningfully on her neck, placing his hand back on her waist.

"Why not?" She asked, weaving her hands along his back, ignoring the obstacle of a shirt.

"It's not supposed to be like that," House whispered, "not now. You're not a hooker, Cuddy. If it's like that, I'll hurt you. I love you too much."

Cuddy nodded. Love mattered a great deal more than being shirtless. "Can I still kiss you?" She asked, gently moving her lips along his face anyway. She was pleased when House nodded. Their lips found each other again, and continued from where they had been so rudely interrupted.

Cuddy crept her fingers up to House's shoulders and slowly leaned back. He now lay on the couch, Cuddy on top of him, kissing him passionately. His hands were again on her waist, walking slowly along her skin, familiarizing themselves with every piece of skin they touched. Cuddy delicately brushed her fingers along his stomach, making his skin tingle pleasantly. She noted how much more beautiful it was without the burns. With every piece of their beings, House and Cuddy absolutely loved this moment. They absolutely loved each other. And had they been paying any attention to anything but each other in the entire universe, they would've noticed that on House's own television set, at that exact moment, they could've learnt the precise diet of the platypus.

"Fate," Cuddy whispered.

House kissed her lightly and laughed lovingly, "so long as it's interesting."

One of the many arguments in our world is the argument of free-will vs. determinism. Free-will is the argument in which things just happen, accidentally, coincidentally, without reason, however you wish to label it. Determinism, however, states that every single thing in the entire universe that has ever happened has happened for a reason, for a purpose. Fate. You can, obviously, believe whichever your heart desires, but I think it's clear which I believe in. And just in case you were wondering, in case you were interested, the platypus eats shrimps, larvae, horsehair worms, fish eggs, plants, and also mud which contains plankton.


End file.
